110th Hunger Games
by Ruce
Summary: A typical Hunger Games fanfic, made up entirely of OCs. The perspective changes every chapter, but it revolves mainly around the same tributes.
1. 1 The Reaping

**CHRISTOPHER YOUNG – DISTRICT 1**

Reaping day was always a day of questioning for me, rather than fear. Long before I was born, my father, Trevor, won the Hunger Games. I'm sure if I was alive at the time I'd have been over the moon for him, but I can't help but feel a little resentment. He had to kill many other people to win. What use is there in having the glory of winning, if you're burdened by the guilt of murder?  
But that's beside the point. Today is reaping day, and I need to focus on the moment. Today isn't about what my Dad did or about killing other tributes. This is merely a day for choosing who's going into the arena. I've always been very apathetic about this – I don't wanna go in there and get killed, but I'm not going to cry about it if I do have to. Maybe it's because my Dad won't stop telling me about how a conscience is a waste in the arena, and that the fame and glory is all that matters. Sometimes I feel like he never let me form my own opinion.

As per usual, District 1 is pretty buzzed about the reaping, and everyone is looking forward to seeing who gets picked. I think I'm going to sink in to the crowd like I normally do, and just hope nobody confronts me and asks what my hopes and ambitions are if I get 'lucky'. They have a terrible habit of assuming nobody under the age of 15 will get reaped without somebody volunteering for them, but I'm 16 now, so it's too late to be considered part of the young ones.

As I make my way through the built-up streets of District 1, I see Elizabeth, one of my old friends from school, exit her house in front of me. She's dressed in a lovely light pink gown and has her brown hair tied up with a velvet ribbon. She stops for a moment, and I consider catching up to her and walking to the reaping with her, but she hurries off a moment later, probably worried about being late. She looked genuinely terrified, as she was every year. The poor girl isn't exactly a District 1 poster child.

Some time later, everyone is gathered around the stage used for the reaping. I can see the two large bowls full of slips of paper, every District 1 child's name inscribed on one of them. I get in line for the check-in. My poor finger. It's built up a resistance to pain over the four years I've been coming here, but I can't imagine it enjoys its annual stabbing. After all the preparations are over and done with, the excitement calms down and everyone goes silent, as our district's escort, Cecilia Venerra, walks onstage. She looks absolutely ridiculous, as usual – she's dressed in an almost metallic-looking, hot pink outfit, with jagged edges sticking out all over the place. She has a large black wing made out of feathers protruding from one side behind her back, and her pink eyelashes are visible from a mile away. For all the effort she'd put into her outfit, her light brown hair looked pretty measly however, and she'd stuffed it into a small pink cap on her head.

"Welcome! I trust we're all excited for this year's reaping?" she announces, as the crowd roars in excitement. "I have been looking forward to this moment all day, and I trust the rest of you have been, too. I hope all you children are looking forward to hearing your name!" she giggles, as she walks over to the first bowl. Ladies first. To be honest, I'd rather have the boys first, but there's nothing I can do about it so I just stand here rigidly, as Cecilia rummages through the slips of paper. She eventually decides on one, and slowly pulls it out, almost fondling it as she fiddles it open.

"Elizabeth Prower!" her voice booms through the microphone, and there's immediately a loud gasp from the crowd. Of all the people to have been chosen, it's Elizabeth. The one girl that didn't want to be chosen, and there she is, walking slowly down the aisle that divides the boys and the girls. She's staring hard at the floor, determined not to make any eye contact with anyone. I can feel my heart sink as she briefly looks in my direction – she doesn't spot me, but the anguish in her eyes is clear. Suddenly, my dad leans down next to my ear, and whispers "Looks like our winner's not gonna be a girl this year." I don't know whether to punch him in the face or to nod in agreement. I decide on the latter.

"Now then, don't be shy poppet, you've got the true honor of representing our district... aren't you just thrilled?" Cecilia asks, her smile stretching from ear to ear. Elizabeth nods very slowly, and turns her head away from Cecilia, facing the ground again. I can see some of the girls sniggering – it's clear nobody else is going to volunteer, because everyone likes to watch a weakling suffer in this district. It's the main reason my Dad even watches the Games. He's always picking out a weakling and betting on them dying next.

Cecilia is walking over to the other bowl now, and her hand dives into it, as if she's aiming to pick out a potent tribute. She doesn't take as long as she did with the girls, and she's hurrying back over to the microphone, and I'm feeling that odd sense of fear attempting to take over as it does every year...

"Tad Pohl!" her voice echoes, and there's an immediate outcry of laughter from the crowd upon hearing his name. I have to admit, I laughed a little too, for two reasons. Firstly, his name is absolutely hysterical. Secondly, he's a total weakling, and my Dad is absolutely roaring in laughter. It looks like District 1 is headed for two bloodbath deaths this year. Tad, a scrawny 13 year old, barely reaches 5 feet in height and has no strength to speak of. I can see him being almost dragged up the stairs by Cecilia, and tears are streaming down his face. It's clear that even Cecilia is feeling sorry for him, as the first thing she does is ask if anybody wants to volunteer in place of Tad. Everybody in the crowd starts mumbling to each other, and I'm kind of hoping somebody does volunteer. Just as the conversation starts dying down and there seems to be no sign of a volunteer, my dad jabs me in the back. I don't need telling twice.

"I volunteer!" I yell, my hand shooting up in the air. Everybody turns to look at me as my Dad smiles and nods, and Cecilia beckons me to come up the stage as Tad runs swiftly back to his family. I'm striding down the aisle and climbing up to the stage, and for the first time in my life, I'm feeling real pride.

"What's your name, boy?" Cecilia asks, clearly much more satisfied with the tribute-to-be in front of her. I lean into the microphone and confidently say "Christopher Young." The crowd starts cheering and clapping, and I feel so proud of myself. I didn't think I'd ever have the guts to volunteer, but I guess I didn't exactly have a choice.

As Cecilia read out the typical ending speeches and whatnot, I zoned out and turned my focus to Elizabeth. Her face was completely drained of colour and her breathing was heavy. I felt kind of guilty about how I'd acted so confidently compared to her, but then I remembered what my dad had said. "A conscience is a waste." I had to carry on with a heart of steel, and I remembered that as I shook hands with Elizabeth, staring at her coldly in the eyes.


	2. 2 Train Journey

**SILAS EDWARDS – DISTRICT 8**

Compared to the ruckus that was the reaping, this was a rather calm setting. I'd been seated on a rather comfortable green sofa, in a wooden room with polished ornaments everywhere. There were pictures of male winners from District 8 on the walls, of which there'd not been many, but most of them were still alive. I stared at them, thinking that one of them was going to be my mentor. Great, a big-headed murderer was going to be mentoring me for the next week or so.

The door suddenly flies open, and my family – or at least the closest thing I have – are stood at the door. The orphanage mistress, a stern, grey-haired woman, the rather friendly and chubby cook, and one of my closest friends; a fellow orphan named Alana.

"Silas!" Alana calls out, as she runs forward and embraces me. I return the hug for the sake of being kind, and she looks me in the eye, a single tear running down her left cheek. "Whatever you do, just be careful. I know you can make it home, you're smart," she says. I put on a fake smile.

"And keep yourself well-fed!" the orphanage cook adds, looking unusually upbeat for such an occasion. Trust her to say something like that. The mistress simply stands there, looking grumpily at me. I can tell she's looking forward to getting rid of me. "Let's just hope you're not as misbehaving in the Capitol as you are here," she grumbles, and then walks out, dragging the cook with her. Alana waits for the door to close, and then sits beside me, her hand resting on my knee.

"I don't need consoling, you know," I say to her, chuckling a little. "They want everyone to think we're sad. If we act like we don't care, we've practically thrown their expectations out of the window," I say.

"Now's not the time for being cunning, Silas," she responds bluntly. "Don't do anything stupid out there. I'll be rooting for you the whole time," she says, trying to stay happy. I know she means well, but I don't really need her moral support. What she says here isn't going to affect my ability to survive in the arena. The peacemakers swing open the door again, and they're beckoning Alana to leave. She plants a kiss on my cheek and quickly runs out, without a goodbye. Maybe she's finally gotten the hint that I don't like goodbyes. I wipe the saliva off my face and stand up, letting the peacemakers grab hold of my arms and escort me to the train. They sure don't waste time.

I'm soon joined by my female district partner, Luna Wolfe. I've never even spoken to her before this, and neither of us seem particularly willing to break that trend. Her pale white skin and hair match the washed-out cream colour of her dress, which is adorned with a pink floral pattern. Her redish-pink eyes stared directly at me as she was practically apprehended by the peacemakers and thrown onto the train. I'd gathered over the years that she's probably an albino, but I'd guessed it'd be rude to ask. And besides, that'd require speaking to her. I get thrown onto the train shortly after, and the door slams shut behind us as the crowd gathers near the station, ready to wave us off. I give them all a quick nod through the window and then walk through a door and into the carriage where we'd be sat for the next couple of hours.

Compared to what we're used to in District 8, this place is pretty exquisite, but all it really shows is how stuck-up and addicted to luxury the Capitol residents are. I stroll around the carriage, pick up an iced bun from a display of sweet treats and sit down on the purple velvet seats. I'd figured by watching the reapings every year that each district has differently coloured seats on the trains. Speaking of watching the reapings, a large TV screen on the wall flickers on, and it's showing the reaping of each district, starting with District 1. There's a rather terrified-looking girl already on the stage, and a tiny, scrawny boy being called up to it. I start to laugh as I see their district mentor attempt to pull him up the stairs, and she eventually gives up and asks if anybody would like to volunteer. Sometime after, a tall, muscular boy with dirty blonde hair is walking up to the stage instead. I don't feel quite as optimistic anymore.

I sort of zone out for most of the show, but I do memorise a couple of faces. There's a mixed-race girl from District 4 with messy curly hair. A boy from District 5 with some odd-looking skin markings down his right arm. The girl from District 7 has a full fringe that practically covers her eyes. The District 11 girl is pretty short and looks fairly innocent. That's never a good sign for the Games. The show ends with the District 12 boy, who looks unusually strong and confident for someone from such a poor district. Mind you, I can't complain – I'd done a very good job at pretending to be happy about being chosen.

I fall asleep briefly while on the train, but I'm woken up when our district escort, Tatiana Trolanakuma, enters the carriage, with Luna walking shyly behind her. "I was just speaking to Luna about exciting the next week is going to be. I'm sure you're excited too," she says rather happily. I just nod in response. Luna walks over and sits down across from me. We stare at each other awkwardly for a few moments, until Tatiana breaks the silence. "I'm just going to fetch Phil. I'll be back in a moment," she says before walking off. Phil is our district mentor, then. His name was in the room I'd been in a couple of hours ago, but there was no picture of him for some reason, so I have no idea what he looks like.

I find out in a matter of minutes, as a lanky guy dressed in a light blue velvet suit walks through the door. His black hair is tied back in a ponytail, Caesar Flickerman style. He sits down next to us, almost shoving Luna off her seat. He pours himself a cup of coffee and takes a quick sip, closing his eyes and sighing loudly. He then puts the cup down, sits back and rests his arms on his stomach. "So you two are the bait for this year then," he says, not even bothering to look at us.

"I-Id prefer to call myself a tribute, if you don't mind," Luna pipes up. Her voice is very gentle and soft. From what I recall, she's lost both her brother and her best friend to the Capitol, so I can't imagine she's going to be very kind to them in the days to come. At least we have something in common.

"Bait is what you are, Capitol bait," Phil bluntly responds. "They're gonna dip you into that arena and watch you get gobbled up like a worm," he says, mockingly. I suppose all three of us share a blind hatred of the Capitol. Luna's turned away from Phil now and is staring at the wall. I figured she wanted to be alone, so I diverted Phil's attention to me by pouring myself some tea, making sure to make extra noise with the cups.

"You're a quiet one, eh," he says, actually looking at me this time. I smile menacingly and stare back at him, sipping my tea in a deliberately posh fashion.

"Why yes, I am merely thinking of how I plan to win the Games," I reply sarcastically, putting on a Capitol accent. He sniggers – he's evidently picked up on my sarcasm. Good for him, it's practically my language.

"And just how do you plan to do that?" he asks.

"Why, my razor-sharp wit of course," I reply. He sniggers some more. Getting on good terms with this guy could turn out to be beneficial.

"Razor sharp blades are more to the Capitol's liking," he replies, playing along with me. I was starting to love this guy already. He picks up a butter knife and sinks it slowly into the butter, as if he was dissecting a dead body. I chuckled and picked up a sharper, longer knife, carving a piece of ham with it. I can see Luna looking at us with disgust as Phil and I laugh with each other, before he breaks the act and returns to his lazy voice.

"Focus Phil, focus!" he says to himself. "You're supposed to be giving these guys advice!"

"I've picked up plenty of advice from you on how to torture somebody with a knife," I say, smiling. He chuckles, and shakes Luna's shoulder, attempting to grab her attention again.

"Listen, you two. District 8's not had a victor in a while, and I'm being pressured to make sure you two give the Capitol a good show," he says, his voice turned serious. "I'm not expecting you two to do that, but at least knowing how to survive a cold night can't hurt."Luna and I both look to him, then to each other, and nod simultaneously.

"There's one thing I'm going to suggest to you both," he begins, leaning in closer to us as if he doesn't want anybody else to hear. "You don't fight anyone at the bloodbath. Got that? Anyone. You get what you need, and you get out there pronto. We don't need our tributes dead ten minutes into the Games. Got it?" We both nod again.

"Is that all there is to it?" Luna asks. "Surely there's other stuff... starting a fire... finding food... staying hidden..."

"None of that matters as long as you're alive," Phil replies. "You'll figure that stuff out once you're in there. Survival instincts will kick in. Adrenaline will get you away from the Cornucopia and instinct will take care of the rest." She looks a little perplexed, but she's not about to ask any more questions. Actually, I can see why, because the Capitol is coming into view on the horizon. The Capitol... I'm not sure whether to feel happy or sad that this train journey has come to an end, but at least this wasn't going to be the last time I'd see Phil. As we pulled into the Capitol train station, the crowd was jumping up and down in excitement, and were waving so much you'd think their hands were on fire. Luna waved slowly through the window, staring wide-eyed at the Capitol residents, scaring some of them half to death. They probably have some miracle cure for albinism here, so they won't have seen someone like Luna before. It seems as if she's deliberately scaring them, though. I like that.

As we're getting off the train, Phil rests his hand on my shoulder and smiles. "Hey, I'm sorry about sounding so serious earlier. It's just that none of my mentees have ever won the Games and people are starting to doubt whether my win was authentic," he admits, attempting to laugh about the situation.

"No worries. I think we'll both agree that razor-sharp wit is better than a razor-sharp knife any day," I reply, and we both have one final chuckle before we step out of the train, into the blinding light of flashing cameras... We were finally here. The Capitol.


	3. 3 Preparations & Chariot

**LAURA KINGSWOOD – DISTRICT 7**

Jesus Christ, when are these people going to stop obsessing over us? For the past half an hour or so, I've been sat in a limo with my district partner, Leon. Every single opportunity they get, the Capitol residents are all over us, and I'm feeling seriously drained already. I haven't even been in the Capitol for an hour yet and I already want to go home. Not that I even wanted to come here in the first place, but y'know.

As the limo drives smoothly through the urban streets, I turn to Leon, who's staring out of his own window. "You've made extra effort with your hair today, haven't you?" I remarked, looking at his long, spiked brown hair. Anyone would think it was naturally that way, you can't tell it's styled at all. He raises his eyebrows at me and smiles – or, at least, the eyebrow which I can actually see. The other is covered by his fringe. "Are you gonna let the Capitol see your eyes or not, mister?" I jeered.

"Excuse me, you're hardly in a position to joke about that," he says, nodding towards me. He was right – my full fringe almost covered my eyes too. At least he has one visible eye, I had something more like two half-eyes.

"Alright, I get it. Still, we need to make some sort of an impression while we're here. A sponsorship gift or two could save our lives in the arena," I mention to him.

"Yeah, I know. But I can't help but feel like some sort of interesting object they're all passing around to each other to gawp at."

"We're in the Hunger Games, Leon – we became objects owned by the Capitol the second they read out our names. I still can't believe they picked the two of us, though."

"I guess the odds weren't particularly in our favour," he replies, turning his attention back to the moving scenery outside the window. "Can I tell you something? If one of us dies, I want us both to die. Neither of us deserves the suffering of losing our best friend."

There is a long pause. "I see where you're coming from... but what are we gonna do, then? Have some sort of device that stops our hearts when the other dies?"

"Ew, no. That sounds horrible. Can you imagine your heart suddenly stopping? You'd just drop to the ground and-"

"Don't inform me of any gory details!" I snap at him. "We'll just have to stick together while we're in there."

"I guess so. But we're not in the arena yet, we ought to focus on the positives," he says.

"What positives? The only positive here is the food," I reply, taking a cracker out of my pocket that I'd stolen from the train. No use in putting good food to waste. Leon looked to the cracker, then to me and let out a little laugh.

"Trust you to do that," he says, clearly jealous of my amazing food stealing skills. "You might wanna put it away for now though, I think the limo's stopping..."

I'm a little too interested in my cracker to hear what he said, but it registers when the limo suddenly halts and our doors swing open. I quickly stuff the cracker into my pocket and prepare myself for the camera flashes, but none come. We step out of the vehicle and look at each other, clearly both very confused. The limo is about to drive off when the passenger seat's door flies open and our district's escort steps out, whose name I can't seem to remember. She flips her long yellow hair and takes out her mint green parasol, despite the fact it's not sunny whatsoever.

"What is this place?" Leon asks. Our escort turns around and glares at him, evidently a little disappointed that he doesn't know where we are. I have no idea either, but I pretend I know and join her in shaking my head at him.

"You don't know? This is where you're going to get spruced up and ready for all of Panem to see," she replies, ending her sentence with a stuck-up grunt. She turns around and starts walking typical Capitol-style towards the building near us. It resembles a giant theatre, but we must be at the back of it because there's nobody here.

"What do you bet they're going to dye our hair bright green and make us parade around in tree costumes?" I ask Leon as we start following our escort.

"They'd be pretty stupid to do that, we'd stand out like penguins in the desert when we got into the arena," he replies.

"I suppose so, but still, they've done some pretty crazy stuff in the past."

"I'm sure I can cajole them into giving us something a little more... sensible. I wouldn't mind being dressed up as an axe murderer. I mean, we use axes back home, surely that'd be acceptable?"

"Maybe up until the point where we drop the axe on some poor Capitol resident in the crowd, yes," I say, laughing. He laughs too, and we both enter through the door of the theatre-looking building. Once we're inside, we're in a darkened corridor with many doors on each side. Each one seems to be marked with a different number, and I'm assuming they go up to twelve. Before I have a chance to say anything, however, I'm practically shoved through a door by my escort and find myself in a room somewhat resembling a hospital ward.

"Ah, here you are? Laura is the name, correct? Laura Kingswood, yes, take a seat right here, if you will, hehe." I have no idea where the voice is coming from, but I'm soon answered where a very flamboyant-looking man skips out from behind a curtain and leads me to something similar to a dentist chair. I sit down in it and the man skips away again. He's knocking on some door, and a few seconds later a team of about five people walks out in an orderly line, and surrounds me. They're armed with clipboards and are each holding a pen, and they're all whispering to each other and scribbling down things on their notepads. This is making me feel really uncomfortable, because I hate being judged in any shape or form. And right now, it looks like they're judging my appearance, and that's one of the worst things they could be doing.

"What are you doing?" I ask them, but they don't seem to respond. One of them walks off and comes back with a tray full of beauty products, and hands several of them out before going off to get some more. I'm fairly sure the next hour or so is going to be one of the most humiliating of my life, so I close my eyes and just wait for it to be over.

I wake up some time later and attempt to lift my head, but all I feel is a gloved hand pushing it back down again. Since when do they drug tributes before they start the makeover procedure? It must be a new rule after some boy last year freaked out when he was being given some Botox shots. I can't say I blame him.

I feel a little too groggy to do anything for the next 10 minutes, but I can feel some people clipping away at my toenails and waxing any remaining hairs off my leg. It's painful, but I'm not really in the mood for screaming and yelling. I'm guessing they'd started at my head and worked down to my feet, and were just finishing off. I must have woken up a little earlier than they were expecting me to.

Eventually, they let me sit up, and I find that I'm dressed in a gown that I wasn't in before. They must have hosed me down while I was asleep. The thought kind of disturbs me, but there's nothing I can do about it now. I stand up, and there's a full-length mirror right in front of me. I'm immediately stunned by the transformation – for one, they've cut my fringe a little, but it's made a huge difference. I can see both of my eyes, their dark brown colour staring back at me from my reflection. The rest of my long-ish hair feels much sleeker and straighter than before, and my skin looks almost perfect. It's kept its pale complexion, but there's not a blemish in sight. My nails have also been perfectly clipped and removed of any discoloration. I'm not sure whether to be amazed or horrified by what they've done to me, but I still feel like I've been changed against my will. Whatever, it's only my physical appearance. They're not going to change my opinion on them.

The next few hours are taken up by several people coming to examine me physically, making finishing touches and figuring out what the chariot costume is going to be for District 7. I think they've already got it all figured out, but they just like discussing this stuff. Eventually, I'm shown through to a room with a tanned man with royal blue hair is stood, with several pieces of clothing laid out on a table. I know immediately it's what I'm going to be wearing, and I feel sick at the sight of it. It's green and brown. I'm going to be a tree.

"Now now, don't be alarmed honey, you're not going to be a tree," he says, cocking his head arrogantly. Oh dear. My hopes have been shattered. I'm devastated. "This is a state of the art costume that's going to make you look like a hero. Why don't you give it a try?" I thought I might as well get this whole thing over with, and put on the clothes.

From the looks of it, they've gone for the idea that all District 7 children chop trees for a living. They couldn't be more wrong, to be honest, but I'll live. I'm dressed in a dark green, long leather tunic, and white tights. I have several brown belts tied around me that are lined with tools that we use commonly back home. To top all that off, I've been given a ridiculous green hat that looks like something out of a French fashion parade. It has a red feather attached. I think I look more like Robin Hood than a tree, and I can't figure out is worse. At least there's one positive, though – they must have overheard us in the limo or something, because there's a large axe that I'm required to hold in a particular way while I'm in the chariot. It's one of the hugest axes I've ever seen, and has a metallic, ridged handle. Several carvings on it suggest that it's supposed to look ancient.

"Just remember, no dropping the axe while you're out there. I know it's heavy, but you're only in that chariot for about two minutes. Break a leg, baby," he says, before turning around and walking out of the door. Eh? What's he just left me for? I realise a few seconds later when the entire wall on the other side of the room splits open, revealing a darkened room full of every single other tribute. I feel like collapsing out of embarrassment, but luckily Leon comes to the rescue and drags me out of the room before I faint. He's dressed very similarly, except he doesn't have a hat and his hair has been spiked in a way that makes it look like a series of tree branches.

"Jeez, they really went for the tree look with you," I say, laughing. He gives me a death glare, and I know not to say any more. Push the wrong buttons with him and you'll be dead on the floor in a minute.

"Don't say a word. Besides, you're not looking much better as an axe murderer," he retorts, indicating the large axe which I'd left on the floor. I pick up the axe again and attempt to haul it around, having to hold it with two hands. It's awkward enough being in a room filled with all the other tributes, attempting to hold a giant weapon at the same time isn't helping. I see that Leon has an axe too, but the careers have stolen it off him and are attempting to scare the younger tributes with it. It looks as if the District 4 male is about to slice off the District 11 girl's head, when the District 5 boy suddenly interferes and snatches the axe off him.

"Knock it off, Suriel," I hear the boy say as he takes the axe, returning it to Leon shortly after. It was scary how easily he'd lifted it. "Kitro Token, District 5. Nice to meet you," he says, before turning around and disappearing back into the sea of tributes. He certainly stood out among them, however – his bright blonde hair was noticeable from a mile away, and he also had a very odd scar all the way down his right arm. I could tell Leon had noticed this too, as he glances at me with a did-you-see-that-too look. I nod slowly before turning my attention to the twelve chariots that are lined up in this large room. Tributes are beginning to climb into them, so I start looking around for the appropriate one. I have no idea which one to get into, but I eventually find the right one by looking for Kitro, and then getting in the one that's two behind his. We both haul our gigantic axes into the chariot and stand up. Leon sighs as he looks ahead.

"This is where it all starts. This is where it all truly begins," he says, shuffling nervously. I say nothing but there's no need to, as a few moments later a dazzling light almost blinds us both, as a large curtain we hadn't even seen raised up, and the first chariot rode out onto the runway...

The flashing cameras are something I'm used to by now, but the mad screams and cheers of the crowd are almost unbearable. I do my best to hold up my axe and smile, but I'm too scared to do anything but look straight ahead. I don't even look towards Leon, but I assume he's doing a better job than me at holding up this gigantic weapon. The chariot ride seems over in a flash, and it's already pulling up into the large area where the President begins his speech. I zone out for most of it, but I'm brought back to reality by the cheering as he finishes, and the sound of Leon finally dropping his axe and hopping out of the chariot. I realise that my arms were practically dying from holding this thing for so long, so I drop mine too and hop out, allowing my poor arms to recover. Leon rushes over to me and smiles, looking around him at the still-flashing cameras.

"They loved it. They must have! Just listen to them!" he says excitedly. But all that's really on my mind is the real Games, and how we're now just puppets for the Capitol to control... on TV, they do a good job at making out the tributes are still in full control of themselves, but you can just see that some of the tributes, especially the careers, have already been brainwashed by the promise of fame and fortune. I just hope to God that Leon doesn't fall into this trap too. I want us to leave here with the same personality we came with, however difficult that may be...


	4. 4 Training

KITRO TOKEN – DISTRICT 5

The crowd's cheering is pleasing, but I manage to ignore it all as the tributes scatter, being escorted towards their rooms. They make a habit of using several different lifts to avoid awkward confrontations, so this is likely the last time I'm going to see the other tributes until tomorrow, when training starts.

Walking around in this costume is considerably more difficult than I thought it'd be. We're dressed in a bizarre mix of yellow and blue, probably to represent lightning or something. I was told it'd be striking and the crowd would love it, but I'm skeptical. They were more focused on the gigantic axes the District 7 tributes were holding.

Having been brought up in District 5 I'm very interested in science and chemistry, so the Capitol has been a fascinating place so far. I'm barely given enough time to observe my surroundings though, so I've been focusing on people instead, mainly my district partner, Sheila Lirette. She's a very upbeat girl but something seems off about her. It's as if her happiness is a mask and there's a beast waiting to tear up the arena inside.

Regardless, I'm stuck with her for the training period, so we'll see how her personality develops. In the time I've been thinking about that, we've almost walked all the way to the lift that'll take us to our home for the next few days. When we arrive there, however, our escort seems pretty frustrated, and is staring at the lift with a scrunched-up face.

"What's up, Mirrian?" Sheila asks.

"The damn lift isn't working! This is truly unacceptable treatment for you two! If they're expecting us to take the stairs, they have another thing coming!" she yelld, storming off to find a guard.

"Yes, absolutely unacceptable," Sheila replies, skipping after her. I can't tell if she's being sarcastic or not. She soon comes back, and grabs my arm. I think she's trying to attack me for a second, and I almost retaliate, but instead just snatch my arm away.

"Relax, big guy, I'm just taking you to the stairs. Apparently they are crafted out of pure mahogany, so I'm sure we can ascend in dignity, metaphorically and literally speaking." Sheila grins and leads me towards the stairs.

When we reach the fifth floor, Mirrian leads us towards our living quarters. Upon stepping inside, I'm overwhelmed by the scent of new furniture. They've clearly made everything here out of scratch, which is surprising because they usually recycle furniture from the previous year. Naturally, everything is exquisite. Sheila seems completely overwhelmed, and is jumping in excitement as she leaps from sofa to sofa, window to window, as if she wants to touch absolutely everything in the room.

"I suggest you get some rest. A duo of such fantastic tributes ought to be ready for rigorous training," Mirrian advises before she leaves. I can't rest right now, though, I have too much to think about.

I step through a glass door into one of the bedrooms, where I'd presumably be sleeping – there's two bedrooms, and the other one has a bright pink bed, so that one probably isn't mine. I crash on my navy bed, and stare at the ceiling. A fancy ceiling fan is spinning slowly. I'm about to fall asleep when Sheila bursts into my room and tries to leap onto my bed. Awkwardly, she misses and hits the floor on the side of it. I scramble over and peer over the side, looking at her still body, face-down on the floor. If she's passed out then that's the first pre-games injury we've had in years.

But that turns out not to be the case, as she rolls over and stands up, seemingly uninjured. "Kitro, what're you doing lazing around in here? There's a ton of food on the table and you're sleeping?" she inquires.

"Food doesn't quite spark my interest," I say, getting up, "but I'll come if it'll stop you injuring yourself again." She seems to ignore that remark and simply skips back out of my room.

We're soon all sat around long, green glass table, eating in silence. That is, me, Sheila, Mirrian, a few stylists and Conrad, our mentor. He only won the games two years ago and is a young Asian man with spiky black hair. He's stuffing his face with food – he took quite an indulgence in it after he won the Games.

The silence is awkward, so I decide to break it by asking Mirrian what's happening tomorrow.

"Don't you know? Tomorrow is when training starts! How can you be 16 years old and not yet know the order in which everything happens before the Games?" I shrug. I do know, I just wanted a reason to break the silence.

"So we get to stab things with swords and show off in front of everyone?" Sheila asks, seeming pretty excited.

"Pretty much, yes, although I should hope you have at least a little strategy planned," Mirrian replies.

"I do," Sheila states, leaning forward slightly, "I'm gonna play weakling."

There is a long chorus of sighs as everyone leans back in their chair, pausing their eating just to lament Sheila's decision.

"Sheila," I address her, putting down my fork, "that's been tried so many times before that nobody is going to fall for it."

"Oh, don't worry about that, I've thought of a twist," she quickly responds.

"And just what might that be?" I ask.

"Hehe… haven't decided yet."

I look away from Sheila and stare straight at the wall. The problem with people like her is that they're so stupid, they don't know how stupid they are.

After everyone's done eating, I resume lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling. I would go to bed, but sleeping any less than two hours after eating causes loss of appetite and weight gain in the morning, which certainly isn't favourable for the Games. I still fall asleep pretty quickly, however, not even bothering to get changed out of my clothes.

I wake up presumably before everybody else, as it's barely dawn outside, and if Sheila were awake she'd have woken me up by now. This gives me more time to just lie down and think about things – namely, what I'm going to do in the training centre today. I want to make sure I don't establish any negative bonds between any of the other tributes. Being targeted as dead meat in the bloodbath isn't a plan of mine.

Sheila wakes up some two hours later, and we're both fully dressed and ready to head to the training centre by 9:00am. We're escorted there by Mirrian, but she leaves us at the door and simply lets us wander in by ourselves.

To our surprise, we're the last two tributes to arrive – everybody else is already here, testing out the equipment scattered all around the room. Wherever there's not some sort of obstacle course filling up the floor, there's a weapon stand. There's barely any floor space left to walk, other than the areas specially made for sword practice.

Sheila immediately runs off to god knows where, so I'm left alone to wander through the centre. I'm hoping we've missed the long lecture at the beginning where we're told not to be violent with the other tributes and all that jazz, but my hopes are shattered when I hear a loud whistle coming from the middle of the room. Everyone stops what they're doing and rushes over immediately, save for the District 12 male, who seems far too occupied with a heavy sword to pay attention. He's tall and bulky, with olive skin and dark hair, typical District 12 look, except he appears to be well-fed.

"Hunter, please stop, you can get right back to the swords in a moment," a woman calls out. He doesn't even stop to look, however, as he continues slashing his blade through the air. Upon closer inspection, he appears to be terrorizing his district partner, a skinny girl with long black hair. She looks unusually calm, as she shuffles around his feet to avoid his threatening sword swings. Usually this kind of behavior is just teasing, but I'm starting to get worried he's actually trying to hit her. Luckily, the District 10 male, I believe his name is West, comes to intervene.

"Hunter, come on, now's not the time," he says, attempting to take the blade. Hunter reacts violently, however, and tries to struggle away, almost slicing West's face off in the process. This gives Hunter's district partner enough time to escape and hurry back to the crowd. I hear someone call her Olivia as they commend her calmness. One of the guards has to break up Hunter and West's mini struggle eventually, as he restrains Hunter, forcibly taking his sword and passing it to another guard. He is then forced to walk back to the rest of us, noticeably disgruntled.

The typical lecture soon begins and we're advised not to hurt each other, to preserve our strength and to work on our weaknesses… the usual stuff. I'm not interested in listening to her so I just look at the other tributes around me. Interestingly, this year lacks the token fat kid that always gets killed first, meaning there's no easy target for the careers to pick on. Unfortunately that means I have to try harder to blend in so I don't become the target instead.

Eventually everyone disperses and goes back to what they were doing before. I look around for somewhere unoccupied and eventually settle for the short knives and daggers. I don't have a fantastic aim so I'm better with close combat. I seem to spend more time admiring the intricate design of the knives than actually using them, but I still have a good go at stabbing all the targets with them.

I'm on my own for a while until a girl gingerly walks into the same area as me, presumably District 10's female tribute. She has strawberry blonde hair that's styled inwards and appears to imitate her collar bone. She turns to look at me with a pair of light brown eyes. By far the most innocent-looking person I've seen so far, she's even kind enough to ask permission to use the knife I'd just put down.

"Heh, of course," I say, laughing, "but you might wanna drop the kind attitude if you want any hope at surviving."

"Oh, I've already given up hope on that… I didn't expect to live as soon as I heard my name…" she sighs, picking up the knife. She stares at it for a second, running her finger along the sharp edge, before she puts it down again and leans against the wall with her eyes shut.

I'm not great at dealing with emotions like hers, so I just pick up that same knife and say "Here, let me show you."

I sidestep to a human-shaped target near to us, and then throw my arm around its neck, getting it into a headlock. I slice it along the side of its neck, attempting to hit where the jugular vein would be. I let the decoy fall to the floor and spin the knife in my hands. "If you're ever in a one-on-one knife fight, try that. They'll be dead in seconds and won't have any time to complain about it," I explain.

She looks a little horrified, but soon returns to her poker face, taking the knife off me and trying the same thing on another target. She seems instinctively gentle, and it's almost painful watching her face as she attempts to cut something that isn't even a living creature.

"I'm really not cut out for this," she murmurs to me as she hands the knife back. "I'm Jaily Burwell, by the way."

"So you're West's partner?" I ask.

"Yes, that's right. We work in the same fields back at home… or should I say, worked. He's a strong guy. I hope he can win."

Pausing for a moment, I take a bold move and reply with "I bet you could win just as easily."

She shakes her head and laughs a little, easily shaking off the compliment. "Didn't you just see me attempting to attack that decoy? I have too many morals that are simply going to get in the way of me killing anyone."

"Then perhaps you should play the survival act, and just pull a few cool stunts to keep the Gamemakers from shoving you into combat. There's plenty of ways to indirectly kill someone. I'm Kitro, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Kitro."

We spend a little longer both practicing with knives, before we move on to the plants section. She seems to know more about plants than I do, but that's understandable considering the districts we come from. We keep circling the centre together, trying out each and every training station, and it's not until we get to the large swords section that we run into somebody else.

Christopher Young, District 1's male tribute, is slashing relentlessly at the decoys around him, with one of the largest swords I've ever seen. However, he seems approachable enough, so I decide to talk to him.

"Hey, nice to meet you, my name's-" I begin, before I'm interrupted by Chris.

"Woah, sorry dude! I didn't even see you there! Are you okay?" he exclaims, looking very worried.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" I respond.

"Kitro, he's just whacked your arm with his sword," Jailey answers for me. I look at both my arms, and sure enough, there's a red line on my right arm where Christopher's sword must have made contact. There's a little blood but I'm able to wipe it away with my sleeve.

"Jeez, aren't you in pain?" Chris asks, bewildered.

"No, I can't feel pain in my right arm," I reply while wiping the blood off my fingers. "It got electrocuted a year ago and all the nerves were completely killed. That's why there's a lighting scar all the way down it, because that's where the nerves used to be."

Chris looks at me oddly and then laughs a little. "You're a funny guy, Kitro. First you save that little District 11 girl from Suriel, and then you tell me you're immune to pain in your right arm. I sure hope you don't have guns installed in your palms."

"Nah, although I can't say I'd complain if I did," I say, chuckling. "You're one to talk, anyway. Look at that giant sword you were holding just a second ago. I haven't seen anybody else lift that yet."

"Hah, I'm not the strongest guy in this building by a long shot. Just take a look over there," he says, nodding to his left. Not far from us, there's Hunter and some other guy each holding a giant axe, even bigger than the ones the District 7 tributes had in their chariots. They're both raising their weapons in the air, and it looks as if they're about to behead each other, but Chris tells me it's actually a lifting contest. A crowd of around 5 or 6 tributes, mostly female, had gathered to watch their little competition.

"That's Hunter Venezia and Shadow Noctus. Everyone thought Shadow was going to be the emo guy who commits suicide before the Games even begin, but he's proving to be quite the warrior," Chris explains.

It's easy to see why, because Shadow has a typical emo hairstyle, black with red highlights, and a pale complexion. He almost looks like a vampire. The two muscular guys eventually drop their axes and do some sort of fist-bump, seemingly friendly with each other already.

"What district is Shadow from?" I ask.

"Two," Jailey replies.

"He's a career then," I think out loud. It's clear that the Careers are starting a clear alliance already.

I spend the rest of the day with Jailey and Chris, touring the training centre and helping each other to improve on our skills. Jailey is a food and shelter specialist whereas Chris is a combat-oriented person, whereas I'm a mix of both, so it's a good combination so far. However, I begin to become wary of their motives or why exactly they're sticking around me, so I spend the rest of the training period doing things alone for the most part.

By the final day of training, it's become apparent that alliances are forming quickly. The Careers have mostly grouped together, but even they appear to have split into two separate groups, which is very intriguing. Despite being from District 12, Hunter has gotten fairly involved with the careers and they seem willing to accept him for now.

As for myself, I'm not really acquainted with anyone except Sheila, Chris and Jailey, and Sheila definitely isn't at the top of my list for allies. She's been spending most of the time gossiping with other female tributes and watching Hunter and Shadow's lifting contests. I've tried my hardest to lie low, but I'm not sure if it's worked because Chris is constantly telling me how much potential I have. I sure hope he hasn't been telling everybody else about me.

Training comes to a close after four long days, and we now turn our attention to our performances to the Gamemakers tomorrow. As usual we're being told to make a good impression and whatnot. I have no idea what I'm planning to do, so I'm completely isolating myself from anyone today so I can think about it in advance. I need to showcase my strength without becoming an obvious threat. And I think I've just about cracked how to do it.

Sheila is almost bouncing off the walls in excitement prior to her performance, because she just can't damn wait to show off her weakling act. There's a little television screen in the waiting room where I get to watch what she's doing, and it's painfully obvious that she's acting. She runs into the room and immediately throws herself at the floor, pretending to have an injured knee and limping to fetch a bow and arrow. She misses the targets so badly that even a blind person would have gotten closer. I'm still waiting to see what her little twist will be, and I find out at the very end. She suddenly falls to her knees, tears streaming down her face, and makes up a sob story about how she's lost her many siblings to the Games and that her family simply couldn't deal with the pain of losing her too. She has one brother who isn't even old enough to be in the Games. It's kind of embarrassing to watch.

After she's done, not surprisingly, she thinks she's done well and has the Gamemakers convinced. We'll just see about that. Unfortunately, the Sheila show is over and now it's my turn to make an impression to the Gamemakers. They have a system nowadays where you can request beforehand what props you want to work with while you're in there, and I'd asked for a variety of daggers, short knives, and poisonous herbs. It's a strange combination, but I fairly sure I can pull it off.

I enter the room, introduce myself to the Gamemakers and make my way over to the knives. They've evidently seen through my plan and given me some unusually blunt knives, so I have to make do with a machete instead. I observe the plants I've been given, and pick out all the poisonous ones I know, collecting them in my left hand. I then throw them in the air and slice through them as precisely as possible with the machete, and the severed remains of the plants fall to the floor around me. I kick them aside and take a nightlock plant. Everyone knows that nightlock berries are poisonous, but what many people don't know is that the stems and leaves are not, and are even fairly nutritious. Many people avoid the plants altogether after the many deaths they've caused, but Jailey taught me this little secret about them.

Taking the machete, I slice off a decent chunk of it and pop it in my mouth. The Gamemakers look shocked, and one is about to rush in and save me, but another urges them not to. I pull the plant out of my mouth, making sure I bite off all the poisonous berries. I then spit them out, being extra careful that I don't actually bite into them. With the remainder of the plant in my hand, I smile at the cameras before biting off a section of it, chewing on it quite willingly. Most people are probably expecting me to be dead right around now, so I get a pretty good round of applause from the Gamemakers afterwards. I don't want anyone else knowing that actually chewing and swallowing the plant is safe, so I spit it out, hoping that they instead got the impression that I'm just immune to poison or something. Hopefully, some people are naïve enough to believe that. I finish the performance by stabbing the machete through a decoy's chest.

Back in our living quarters, I get quite a scolding from Mirrian for almost killing myself, but the District 5 crew are generally pleased with my performance, and strangely, Sheila's too. At around 5:00pm, Panem is shown the official scores, and we all sit around the huge LCD TV mounted on the wall.

My heart is beating unusually fast at this point, as a slightly high or slightly low score could mark me for death.

"Welcome, Panem, to the Hunger Games, where we are here to tell you all of our tributes' training scores! It's been a heck of a week, and the Gamemakers have had to make some tough decisions, but they're finally in! As usual, we shall start with District 1..."

I shuffle in my seat as I wait to hear Christopher's score.

"Christopher Young – a score of 8.  
Elizabeth Prower – a score of 4."

Eight, not a bad score for a career, but I have to say I was expecting a little higher from Chris. I feel sorry for Elizabeth, whoever she is – a career hasn't scored that lowly in a while.

"Shadow Noctus – a score of 5.  
Elspeth Plummer – a score of 8."

Shadow mustn't have many abilities outside of giant-axe-lifting to get that kind of score. It looks like his district partner, Elspeth, is considerably more threatening right now.

"Daniel MacCleod – a score of 7.  
Roxanne Lionheart – a score of 8.

Suriel Raffolk – a score of 10.  
Rochelle Amphora – a score of 10."

District 4's tributes are looking pretty scary this year, with double 10s. Suriel is a beast with heavy weapons and Rochelle is one of the fastest and most agile attackers I've seen in a long time.

My heart is almost in my throat as they come to District 5, and Sheila is practically bouncing in her seat.

"Kitro Token – a score of 7.  
Sheila Lirette – a score of 3."

Damn, Sheila's weakling tactic actually worked. I'm relieved to hear I got a seven, because that's just about middle ground. High enough to be somewhat fearsome yet low enough to avoid being an immediate target. Now that the build-up to our scores are over, I'm able to focus more freely on everybody else's scores.

"Kevin Kane – a score of 6.  
Cadence VonKoche – a score of 7.

Leon Kafei – a score of 8.  
Laura Kingswood – a score of 9."

That's worryingly high for District 7, especially that nine. I'll have to look out for Laura. I don't know much about the District 6 tributes, but that's about average for them.

"Silas Edwards – a score of 8.  
Luna Wolfe – a score of 6."

Silas is definitely the sly fox of this year's Games, and that eight means he's probably going to be a little bit of a trickster in the arena.

"Speck Field – a score of 10.  
Mimi Duloc – a score of 9."

Come to think of it, Mimi had been spending a lot of time around the Careers, and was one of the stronger girls during training. Speck is more of a lone wolf however, so that high score makes me feel very uncomfortable.

"West Arkain – a score of 6.  
Jailey Burwell – a score of 4."

Poor Jailey. I guess she really couldn't find it in her to make a good performance in front of the Gamemakers.

"Knott Seneko – a score of 7.  
Lolly Gledhill – a score of 7.

Hunter Venezia – a score of 11.  
Olivia Nyne – a score of 3."

Great, so the highest scoring person in the arena's going to be Hunter, from District 12 too. I don't think District 12 has scored this highly since the infamous Katniss Everdeen. I'm glad to see Lolly, the girl I saved from Suriel, got a somewhat high score.

Mirrian immediately turns the TV off, clearly uninterested in whatever else the presenters have to say.

"Well, I'd say we have a fairly good set of scores there, don't you?" she asks, glancing at everybody around the room. Everyone seems to nod in agreement except me. Sure, I'm happy with my score, but I'm not sure how Sheila's 3 qualifies as a 'good score'. If she's that intent on being the weakling then I suppose it's acceptable, but I'm still skeptical, because she has to make sure she gets sponsors. Mind you, I suppose her emotional plea is enough to secure a few gullible Capitol sponsors.

Mirrian, Sheila, Conrad and the rest of the District 5 crew spent the rest of the night celebrating with drinks and food while I retired to my bedroom yet again. I'm exhausted after the past few days – I've been waking up early constantly and it's been very frustrating. I'm hoping tonight I can sleep properly, because it's the interviews tomorrow and that's something that's so easy to screw up. I have to make sure I make the right impression. I can't make it look like I'm desperate for sponsors. I have to stay true to myself, in a way. Ugh. Nevermind the Hunger Games, at the moment it's the damn Mind Games. Predicting how the Capitol will respond to you is unusually difficult, despite their shallowness.

As I lay in bed, my mind actively wanders, thinking of tomorrow, the arena and beyond. I never look back, because the past is the past and it cannot be undone. What I've done before in my life is locked away in the realms of time and is not something I want to dwell on. Despite the true grimness of the Games and the fact that I'll probably be dead in a week or less, I can't help but grin to myself as I fall asleep, ready to face whatever the Capitol decides to throw at me.


	5. 5 Interviews

**CADENCE VONKOCHE – DISTRICT 6 POV**

Sleepless nights and restless days has been the norm ever since the night before the reaping, and it saddens me to think that that's not going to get any better. Once we're in the arena, sleep is going to become a means of survival rather than a standard part of the day, or rather night.

Having not slept until it was becoming light last night, I'm very tired this morning and have to drag myself out of bed. I'm somewhat worried about today, because the interviews are happening later on tonight. It's not so much being televised in front of all of Panem that bothers me, it's the fact that my social ability doesn't quite meet my physical ability.

The other tributes are already picking up on the fact that I'm a bit of a pushover and a gullible person, so I'm going to have to try and change that tonight. Prove I'm not a weakling.

As I make my way to the breakfast table, Kevin, my district partner, storms past me and almost knocks me over. I'm glad he didn't, because as soon as I hit a flat surface I'm going to fall asleep. I don't bother calling him out on it, though, because every time I've done that so far he's replied with either a grunt or started a long discussion about how bumping into somebody isn't a crime. His attitude really stinks sometimes, but he's been supportive in a way, because knowing such an independent and strong person makes me feel a bit less alone in this whole thing.

"Fancy some orange juice, Kevin?" I ask him as we both sit down at the table.

"No," he simply replies. Well, a 'no thank you' would have been a little nicer, but I suppose it'll do. I pour some for myself and tuck into some pretty tasty toast and jam. The food has been truly amazing so far, so I'm making sure to eat as much of it as I can. With any luck, the Capitol might pick up on this and send me some tasty treats if I'm starving.

Our mentor comes in just as we're finishing and tells us that we're heading to the stylists in half an hour. I suppose that's something to look forward to, while I don't particularly like the things they dress me in, it's still nice to get so much attention from so many people. I feel like their special little Barbie doll they're playing dress up with. Why I think that's a good thing, I have no idea. As long as people like me I tend to be happy.

Twenty-five minutes later Kevin and I are pretty much ready to go. Despite the fact that they'll be completely changing our appearance soon, I've still decided to make an effort to look half-decent. Kevin hasn't bothered, however, and looks as much of a scruff as he always has. He only ever wears black clothes and has messy black hair that always falls over his face. Sometimes I want to force him into a hair salon, but I suppose they'll be doing that today anyway.

When we arrive at the stylists, I'm glad to see that they're not being quite as thorough as they were when we first arrived. I'm shown what I'll be wearing, and it's a lovely royal blue velvet dress. I've always loved wearing blue because it goes really well with my honey-brown hair.

I'm trying to keep my mind from thinking about the interviews, because I'm holding on to the blind hope that it'll all come naturally once I'm in there. I imagine that Kevin is probably going to be anti-social and attempt insulting the Capitol, which will be very risky but fun to watch nonetheless. I can't stop giving him second chances and I keep thinking he's going to turn over a new leaf and be kind for once. It's not going to happen, but hope has no cost.

Before the interviews actually start, after we're all dressed up and ready to go, we spend a while in some sort of waiting room with a ton of drinks, snacks and, of course, the other tributes. Apparently I must be a very easy person to style because I'm the first person in there.

Not for long, however, as the other tributes slowly start drifting in. Everybody seems dressed very elaborately, yet not to the ridiculous level they were in the chariots. A boy wearing glasses soon collapses onto the sofa right next to me, seemingly oblivious of my presence. He reaches to grab some snacks from the table and only then does he notice there's somebody sat next to him.

"Oh, hey there! Sorry, didn't see ya, bit too focused on the food right here, hah! The names Daniel MacLeod, but you can call me Dan," he says, speaking charismatically.

"Hey, uh, it's no problem. I'm Cadence," I reply softly.

"So, Cadence, what d'ya think? These stylists went so crazy with me that I thought they'd never leave me alone. I keep constantly reaching up to check my hair is still in shape! I think I look good but I keep wondering if there's something wrong, what with everybody staring at each other around here."

His overly-gelled hair spikes and big square glasses only contribute to the nerd look, but I'm sure it wasn't his choice how they styled him. "Oh yeah, you look fine, no need to worry. They make everyone look a bit ridiculous around here."

"Damn, you got that right! Everything they do, they go that little extra mile. I swear they even put extra effort into making sure these twiglets are all the same length," he says, examining the twiglets between his fingers. It's clear he prefers eating food to analyzing it.

"So… Dan, where are you from?" I ask, attempting to keep polite conversation.

"Huh, me? Oh, yeah, I'm from District 3. Land of technology and all that, the place where everyone thinks we live in hovercrafts and have robots do everything for us. Truth be told, that couldn't be much farther from the truth, but what can you do eh."

I laugh a little at his good-humoured attitude. It's a relief to talk to someone like him after being around Kevin for so long. Speaking of which, I haven't seen him since breakfast. "I'm from District 6. Have you seen a grumpy-looking guy with black hair anywhere? He's my district partner but I don't think he's here yet."

"What, that guy over there?" Dan responds, pointing to the far corner of the room. Sure enough, sat in the corner with the sulkiest face ever, is Kevin, attempting to hide his slicked-back hair and fancy bowtie. I can't help but burst out laughing, and all eyes are on me as I keel over attempting to stop myself from choking. Seeing such a social recluse forced into dressing like that is just far too amusing for me to contain myself.

Eventually I stop laughing to catch my breath, and Dan is looking at me with a very amused face. "Gee whiz, you sure can laugh. How about you save some of that laughter for boring times in the arena?" he says, grinning. I grin back and start giggling again. I must be trying to get it out of my system or something.

"Heh, you'll be in good luck if you find me anywhere in the arena. Don't tell Kevin but I'm getting as far away from him as possible, that is, providing I live past day one… he's such a downer that I'll probably end up committing suicide from depression if I hang around him," I explain to Dan.

"Nah, I wouldn't expect you to hang around with Mr. Emo over there. Everyone here is taking these Games so seriously, so it's refreshing to find someone like me who still manages to stay casual in these situations."

"Yup, they just don't know how to relax. The Games haven't even started yet, and there's food on the table, yet they're probably discussing their battle strategies or something," I say, reaching for a few pretzels. My hand meets with Rochelle Amphora's, District 4's female tribute. Her gazing brown eyes practically stare into my soul, sending shivers down my spine. You'd think I'd just murdered a baby by the way she looked at me. I take my handful of pretzels quickly so she'll stop staring at me like that.

"Looks like you've made an enemy," Dan jokes, nudging me slightly.

"I hope not. People like her just give me even more reason to run like hell from that bloodbath," I state, my eyes constantly darting around the room to make sure she's not still glaring at me.

"Do you have any alliances planned or anything? If you're not planning to stay with Kevin then I presume you're doing it all alone?" he asks. I can tell he's hinting, but I play along anyway.

"Yeah, unfortunately I think I'll be alone… unless I run into someone kind enough to not stab me the second they see me."

"Well, keep your eye out, then, because if we cross paths in the arena, I won't be brandishing my knife… providing I even get one! By the looks of it all the weapons are going to belong to the careers again." Dan quickly looks around to make sure no careers are nearby, and then turns back to me to let me speak.

"Well, I don't know, the careers look kinda split up this year. There's Chris and Suriel, who seem to get along… then there's Elspeth, probably the strongest girl… Roxanne and Rochelle are two strong girls too… but I'm fairly sure they don't get along."

"What about Elizabeth? I'm pretty sure she won't be staying with the careers, they've probably deemed her too weak by now. They seem to have replaced her spot with Hunter."

"Ugh, Hunter…" I groan, although I have to stop because he's walking in our direction. He's not going to talk to us, is he? Oh god, he's sitting right next to us. We may have to shuffle over. Dan is evidently thinking the same thing, as we're soon both shuffling away from Hunter, grabbing some food in the process to make it look ambiguous. Dan strikes up an ordinary conversation to cover up the act, and asks me how I'm feeling about the interviews.

"Meh, I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I'm just hoping it'll all come naturally," I answer him. The closer the interviews get, the more I realise that's not going to happen, but I'm saying it for the sake of sounding at least a little bit more confident.

"Oh, don't you worry, I've not got a clue either. It's gonna depend entirely on what I'm asked. I just hope they don't ask any questions about what our motivations are or anything," he replies.

"Ugh, I hate that question. Isn't it blindingly obvious that our motivation is to live?" I chuckle.

_"A blind motivation indeed," _an unfamiliar voice suddenly says directly into my ear. I almost fly out of my seat and crush Dan, but instead manage a huge gasp and a near heart-attack.

"Roxanne, can't you leave us alone?" Dan asks, exasperated.

"Absolutely not, my dear friend Daniel. I believe we have unfinished business to discuss, and it's not something your District 6 friend needs to hear," the girl responds, her pale blue eyes glaring right at him. I eventually manage to sit up again, having recovered from my mini heart-attack and am able to take a look at this mysterious girl. She has perfectly straight, chocolate brown hair and a square face. All her features seem pointed – her jaw, eyes, nose and ears all have pointed edges, which gives her a sinister, intimidating vibe.

"I-is this your partner, Dan?" I ask him, unable to look away from her for some reason.

"Yeah, and not the nicest of partners at that," he remarks.

"Daniel, the Hunger Games is not the place to insult your partner. After all, you're going to be stuck with me for the foreseeable future, I'm afraid," Roxanne says. Her tone of voice makes it sound like she's constantly hissing. I think I'm going to call her the snake girl from now on.

"I-I already told you that I don't want your help! I can do what I want in the arena!" Dan retorts, backing away slightly.

"Oh, but Daniel, you fail to realise the dire situation you'll be letting yourself into if you don't join us," she snarls. "We saw that training score. We're not letting this big fish get away."

"I'm staying with Cadence, if it's any of your business!" he snaps back.

"Yeah, we've made our minds up already!" I chirp up, even though I didn't know Dan thought we were an alliance already. Actually, he probably just made that up so he could get away from Roxanne, but I'm willing to work with it.

"How can you be humbled by someone of such limited significance?" Roxanne interrogates him, staring disgustedly at me. "Wouldn't you like to win?" she continues, slowly arching over me and leaning closer towards Dan. Her hair is dangling over my face, and I'm tempted to start chewing it if she keeps on talking to us. On second thoughts, it's probably covered in a ton of products, which I'd rather not put on my taste buds.

"I've made my decision and that's final!" Dan states, becoming unusually assertive.

Roxanne returns to her original position, and I'm able to sit up properly again, as I've been slowly slipping down in my seat to avoid her. "You've made your choice, Daniel, but don't think for one second that this won't come back to bite you." The snake girl finally leaves us alone again, and Dan slumps in his seat, sighing.

"I don't know why the careers can't just leave me alone. They've been attempting to 'recruit' me since training started."

"I guess that's how you know them so well, then?"

"Yeah, I've had the displeasure of speaking to each of them one-on-one. The only nice one of the lot is Elizabeth, and she's probably going to be dead meat thirty seconds into the bloodbath."

I shake the thought of the bloodbath from my head and look up to see that everyone is slowly making their way back out of the door again. I guess it's time for the interviews.

"Hey, Dan, come on, it's time to go!" I urge him, getting up and fixing my hair.

"Yeah, yeah, gotcha," he glumly replies, stuffing a handful of pretzels into his pocket before he leaves. It's a miracle he's skinny, what with the amount of food he eats.

We're all sorted into a waiting line and I'm stood in front of Kevin, and get to spend the entire waiting time knowing he's right behind me. I'm thrilled. Well, in actuality, everyone's going to be watching the TV screen to see everybody else's interviews. I feel sorry for the District 12 people at the back, having to stand in line for absolutely ages before it's their turn. Actually, I don't feel sorry for Hunter, I couldn't care much less about him.

District 1 is up first, and Elizabeth is on stage. She looks like a fairy out of a children's film, in a huge pale pink dress that flares out at the bottom. It's almost three times as wide as she is. Despite the fact she's obviously terrified, she still manages alright talking with Racus Flickerman, Caesar Flickerman's son and the new Hunger Games host. He's nowhere near as good as Caesar was; he completely lacks the empathetic nature and ability to make every tribute feel good about themselves. This is evident by the fact that he just openly called Elizabeth an 'unexpected pick', which isn't a direct insult but the intention is there. She gets a moderate amount of applause, and she comes back into the waiting corridor looking very drained. She completely avoids eye contact with any of us as she walks away.

Next up is Chris, who puts on a very good show for the Capitol. He's strong, he's a career tribute and he's actually not as arrogant as most District 1 male tributes are. He's talking a lot about his dad and how he wants to please him, because he was once a winner of the Hunger Games. He's definitely a different person on stage than off, which is slightly depressing.

District 2's interviews are painful to watch, as we all get a taste of Shadow's fake macho act and Elspeth's incredible bluntness. The snake girl is up next, and she talks in such a prideful way that it makes me want to smack her in the face. I usually give people a chance, but after her performance in the waiting room I'm out of patience for her. Of course, the crowd loves her, and so does the entire Capitol probably. For the first time ever in my life, I'm wishing death upon someone – but only because it's fairly inevitable soon. I'm just hoping it comes to her sooner rather than later.

Now it's Dan's turn. He's very instinctively charismatic, and it really comes out when he's talking to Racus. He hasn't asked anybody about motivations so far, thankfully, but instead he's asked Dan a very strange question.

"Is there anybody in particular you hope to ally with in the Games?" he asked, probably expecting to hear him say Roxanne's name.

"Well, I can't reveal too much to my fellow tributes, but let's just say I'm not one to abandon a pre-established friendship," he replied with a smile, looking at the camera briefly. It takes a while for me to register exactly what he meant, but when I do, I can't help smiling either.

District 4 is very much similar to District 2, a macho guy and a quite frankly nasty girl, except I'm not sure if the macho act is actually an act with Suriel. I look away for most of Rochelle's interview in case I accidently catch her death glare again.

Listening to Sheila's interview is like listening to a twelve-year-old girl in a jewelry shop, she's certainly an excitable girl. Kitro is a decent guy but something's off about him. Every time he's asked a question, he pauses as if he's loathing every second he has to spend with Racus. I can't say I blame him, but he's not a very good actor, and his true feelings are clear.

Now it's my turn. Oh god, I still don't feel ready for this. What the heck am I supposed to do? I don't have time to think about it because Kevin nudges me and I'm forced to walk onstage. I almost trip on the steps heading up to Racus, and have to do a little twirl with my dress to make it look intentional. I sit down in the red chair opposite Racus and do a little smile-and-wave to the crowd. I can't believe this is actually happening. All of Panem is actually watching me! Every single action I make is being watched by the whole nation. This is _my_ time. And I don't have a clue what I'm doing with it.

"So, Cadence VonKoche… certainly one of the catchiest tribute names so far," he begins. The crowd laughs a little at this. They're seriously easily amused. "Tell me, Cadence, do you have any particular goals in mind for the Games?"

That's just the motivations question but with slightly different wording! It had to come now, didn't it? Of all the interviews, he chose _mine_ to ask that question. Let's think… my mind is racing over every possible thing I could say, and the entire time I've got the waiting room music playing in the back of my mind. I can't say it's very fitting for the situation.

"Cadence…?" Racus asks, leaning over a little to glare at me. Shoot, did I really spend so long thinking that I left an awkward pause?

"Oh, sorry! It's just that I'm such an ambitious person that it's hard to pick out just one goal," I say, rather bewildered by the fact I'd come up with such a good reply out of nowhere. The crowd replies with an 'oooooh' and Racus smiles a little.

"I see, so you have many goals! I hope we get to see some of this, because an ambitious tribute is always one to watch!" he says. Right, so now I've got to come up with a ton of goals in the arena. Great. "During training, we saw you particularly excel at climbing and scaling the landscape. Do you think this will assist you during the Games?"

Of course I do, why on earth wouldn't it? He really does ask stupid question sometimes. "I think it will, but it'll depend on the arena. If the landscape is difficult then I'll be at an advantage, because I'm good at maneuvering around tricky areas. I'll be able to stay well hidden, or escape from a pursuer." The crowd seems to like this, although I think they'd like it more if I added that I could brutally murder a pursuer in the process.

"Ah, I see. So would you say you're a survivalist by nature?"

Ugh, I am but I can't say that. I'll have to think of something else. "I survive in ways unprecedented by others. I'll do what it takes to survive, and if that means killing someone then I'm up for it." That's a flat-out lie, but the crowd seems more excited now, and Racus is smiling again. Kill, murder, stab, injure, blood and death. Some of the Capitol's favourite words.

"It looks like you don't let your conscience get in the way, Cadence! That's a strong trait for a girl," he points out. I don't see how, but I guess it's a compliment, even if it's not true. I smile and nod again.

"I only have one more question for you, Cadence – if you didn't win the Games, who would you want to win in your place?"

This one's a toughie, because I want to say Dan, but Roxanne will rip my throat out if I do. Perhaps I might have to take that risk. "I've made a few friends in my time here. And I'm not one to abandon those friendships, if you get what I mean," I reply tactfully. The Capitol is probably shallow enough to have completely forgotten that Dan said the same thing, but it doesn't matter what they think, I hope Dan is smiling as he watches this now.

"Absolutely brilliant! Give it up for Cadence VonKoche, everyone!" Racus yells, standing up and extending his arm. It takes a moment for me to realise I'm supposed to hold onto it so he can thrust our arms in the air. I smile, showing my teeth and looking at as many Capitol faces as I can. It can't hurt to have them remember me.

As I walk off stage and back into the waiting corridor, I get to see Kevin's face, completely drained of all colour. He looks close to tears. I don't know whether to feel bad or to be happy he's finally going to have to act normally. Regardless, I don't get to watch his interview, because by the time I get back to our living quarters and switch on the TV, he's already off stage and District 7's interviews are on.

Now that my interview is over, I'm admittedly a lot less interested in everybody else's, but I leave the TV on anyway for some background noise. The District 8 boy, I think he's called Silas, made quite a stand during his interview and sarcastically stated his dislike for the Capitol many times. They picked up on this and seemed quite shocked. I admire his bravery, but I don't know how far that's going to get him in the arena.

Speck Field, the District 9 male, is probably my favourite tribute after Dan. He has a very likeable personality, just listening to him talk relaxes me a little. The same can be said for his district partner, Mimi Duloc, she's similar to Sheila in that she's quite bubbly, but she's amusing to watch.

The District 11 girl is adorable. She's pretty small, and has pale skin, which isn't very typical of a girl from her district. I don't quite catch her name, but I think it began with an L. She made the crowd laugh a lot, and served as their dose of 'cute little girl' for this year's games. In reality she's older than me, which is quite scary.

I turn off the TV when it gets to Hunter's interview, because I can't be bothered watching him. At this point, Kevin finally comes through the door, looking fairly traumatized.

"What's wrong, Mr. Emo? Too much contact with the real world for one day?" I jokingly ask.

"Don't ask! And don't even think about making me watch my interview! If those Capitol people from the crowd were in the arena with us, I'd happily line them up and shoot them one by one. Hah…" he quickly spilled, before walking back to his room, sniggering at the thought of shooting Capitol residents. That boy worries me sometimes, but he's a bit of comic relief.

I retire to my room and flick through the TV channels, but it's all Hunger Games banter. I keep listening for my name, but they aren't talking about the tributes much, rather they're predicting what the arena's going to be like, or what's going to be around the Cornucopia. I'm tempted to listen, but then I realise that these people can't predict the future, and I'm better off not preparing myself for something that might not happen.

I turn off the TV and toss the remote to the floor, before getting changed and slipping into bed. I'm about to have a good night's sleep for the first time in a while, before it suddenly hits me – this is it. The fun days are over. Everything's been done. It can't be, surely… there must be something left! Something we haven't done yet! No, we've done everything. It all starts tomorrow. Tomorrow, the 110th Hunger Games begin. I could be dead in 12 hours.  
**  
Tribute List**

**District 1  
**Christopher Young (17)  
Elizabeth Prower (17)

**District 2**

Shadow Noctus (18)  
Elspeth Plummer (16)

**District 3**

Daniel MacLeod (15)  
Roxanne Lionheart (15)

**District 4  
**Suriel Raffolk (17)  
Rochelle Amphora (15)

**District 5  
**Kitro Token (16)  
Sheila Lirette (14)

**District 6  
**Kevin Kane (15)  
Cadence VonKoche (15)

**District 7  
**Leon Kafei (16)  
Laura Kingswood (16)

**District 8  
**Silas Edwards (15)  
Luna Wolfe (17)

**District 9  
**Speck Field (16)  
Mimi Duloc (17)

**District 10  
**West Arkain (18)  
Jailey Burwell (13)

**District 11  
**Knott Seneko (16)  
Lolly Sarine (16)

**District 12  
**Hunter Venezia (18)  
Olivia Nyne (14)


End file.
